Yellow Tulips
by TLX
Summary: Andromeda Black can't admit how much she's flustered by her new colleague, recently returned from North America. She's too busy preparing for her upcoming marriage. Written as part of the 2015 Teachers' Lounge Holiday Exchange for Rose of the West by Cordelia McGonagall... et al?


**This story is for Rose of the West from the Lounge. Merry Christmas, Rose. As always, thank you to J.K.R. for letting me play with her stories.**

Andromeda Black was organizing files and clearing her blotter when a long shadow cut the sunlight streaming in from her charmed Ministry window. She didn't look up, instead bending down to open her bottom desk drawer and empty her lap of its contents. She greeted the shadow with a sigh.

"I've a meeting in five minutes with that scruffy Canadian they've sent to help us sort out the Americans. Edward-something vulgar," Andromeda muttered to the shadow, who snorted a laugh that she assumed came from her assistant, Stuart.

"Tonks," grinned the shadow's caster. "And let's not burden the Canadians with my citizenship. I remember you, Ms. Black, from Hogwarts."

Andromeda looked up and blinked. _It was...not Stuart._ A tall man with a gingery beard raised his eyebrows and smiled absently as he slid a finger over his brow, pushing back his carefully combed sandy hair. He was wearing a tweed suit with a yellow and black house tie, an appealing presentation overall, until Andromeda reminded herself how he'd flustered her.

"Terribly sorry," she said, in a clipped voice. "I thought you were my assistant, Stuart. Since you didn't knock," she added, as a lame justification for her rudeness.

"Excuse me," Edward-not-Stuart bowed his head and held out his hand. "Let's try again. Edward Tonks. Please call me Ted."

"Andromeda Black. You may call me Andromeda," she said reluctantly.

"A pleasure, Andromeda," he said, ignoring her continued frostiness. "Slytherin House? I believe I was a year ahead of you." He touched his tie and gave her a conspiratorial grin.

"I confess I don't remember," she sniffed.

"S'okay," Ted shrugged, biting back a grin. He turned as Stuart slid past him through the doorway, an apology written to his boss on his face.

"Sorry, Ms. Black. I only just found this." Stuart held up a file, and she scowled at him for having left the door open on his way out.

"Stuart? Ted Tonks." Ted put out his hand as he spoke. "Ms. Black and I will be working together over the next few months. Forgive me for drawing you in, Stuart," - Ted held out his hands as though he were being measured for robes - "but tell me, do I look scruffy to you? Be honest, if you please."

"What?" Stuart eyed his boss, who was pursing her lips, undecided on a scowl or a smile of surrender.

"Shall I turn 'round, Stuart? I assumed you could assess the severity of the situation straightaway. You see, Ms. Black called me the scruffy Canadian. I'm not Canadian, but the scruffy factor is still very much up for discussion."

Stuart nodded solemnly. "I see you've gotten to know Andromeda."

Ted raised his eyebrows in amusement as the witch glowered at Stuart. "Oh," Ted said airly, "I suppose I've only just started, Stuart. About the Americans?" He nodded at the file, and Stuart put it in Ted's outstretched hand. "Stuart, a group of us are headed to the Cauldron at six for a pint, care to join?"

Stuart looked startled to have been asked. "I'd take a pint."

"Excellent." Ted turned to Andromeda. "How rude of me. Care to come as well? We aren't too laddish."

"Thank you, no," she said loftily. "I've a date with my fiancé, Ambrose."

Ted's eyes darted to a flash of gold and diamonds laying heavily on her thin hand. "So you do," he said, evenly. "Another time, perhaps." His voice became animated. "So what my Canadian contacts have to say about this treaty is rather interesting - it was worth the portkey and the months of permafrost. Stuart? I forgot a quill to take notes. Do you happen to have a spare?"

Andromeda nodded thanks to Stuart and pulled out fresh parchment, trying to ignore the flustered feeling that was still batting its wings within her.

Later that day, Ted brought her a vase of yellow tulips and a note of apology for barging in when she was unawares. _Hufflepuff yellow,_ she scoffed as she put them where she could see them from her office chair.

..o0O0o..

At lunch in the Ministry canteen, Andromeda ate quietly as the women at her table were amusing each other with gossip about their newest colleague. _It's as if we were still at Hogwarts_ , she thought, stabbing her salad with a huff of irritation.

Oleander Flint casually rolled her chin over her shoulder to examine Ted, who was carrying on an animated Quidditch debate nearby with several wizards and witches from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They were elbowing each other to lean towards him, itching to set him to rights on his allegiances and opinions.

"He looks like a rugged Viking in that delicious suit. Is that what Canadian wizards wear? I wonder what he looks like in dress robes."

They were startled when Andromeda broke her silence. "He was at Hogwarts with us, so he's too young for that beard. He looks ridiculous. I can't take him seriously."

"Well," Oleander drawled, "you don't have to worry about it, lucky for you. I, on the other hand, take him very seriously, indeed." She smirked at her friends as Andromeda poked at her food, ignoring the voice that was asking her what Ted had done to her to raise her ire.

Later he stopped by, as he'd done all that week, to pluck out one wilting tulip from the vase and replace it with a fresh one.

"Surely you've not forgotten wizards have a charm for that, Ted," she said.

He rolled his eyes and answered, "Obviously. But then I'd have to come up with another excuse to say hello, wouldn't I?"

Ambrose thought flowers were so pointless, she couldn't imagine he'd care about a bunch of garish, yellow tulips in her office.

..o0O0o..

The next day, Andromeda jerked to a halt before she reached Ted's desk. He didn't appear to notice her, as he was pouring over a stack of parchments, absently rubbing the cleft in his freshly-shaved chin. Suddenly his finger stopped moving, and he looked up slowly to meet Andromeda's stare that she was hurriedly reconfiguring into a professional interest.

He smiled at her. "What, Andromeda? Can't a serious colleague read serious papers in a serious manner without being gaped at?"

She pursed her lips hoping to quell the pink flooding her cheeks and remembered the file in her hand. "Here. More serious papers. Look at the top one and tell me what you think." She pulled up a chair opposite him, and they worked in tandem for the rest of the afternoon. He walked her back to her office, conjuring one fresh tulip for her vase before he nodded his head in goodbye.

..o0O0o..

Oleander had settled on her new favorite lunchroom topic. "I hear he has a Harpies poster in his office so he can keep track of the ones he still hasn't dated. He went out with Hester from the Senior Undersecretary's office last week. She said he was quite the gentleman."

Gemma Smith sighed and stirred her soup.

Andromeda rolled her eyes and startled when Ted leaned over her to whisper to Oleander. "Your voices carry. Surely you've not forgotten witches have a charm for that. And, for the record, I've shared pleasant evenings with just the starting offensive line." He winked at Oleander and walked out of the room. Andromeda hoped Gemma's chuckling covered the involuntary sound of her breathing in his subtle, spicy cologne. Her thumb rubbed the sharp prongs of her engagement band.

He dropped off a fresh tulip that afternoon. He was alone. On her way to the Floo, she saw Ted in the lobby, his hand grazing the back of Hester from the Senior Undersecretary's office, their heads touching as he leaned down to hear her in the crowd of commuters.

..o0O0o..

Their project was taking so many working hours that it didn't seem odd or inappropriate to eat lunch together now.

Andromeda chewed a bite of her salad and looked at Ted thoughtfully. "Why do you have so many girlfriends, Ted?"

He examined his sandwich. "Because I ask out a lot of women." He took a bite and smiled. Andromeda pulled a face, and he swallowed and added, "Some fancy me, some just like being asked, I suppose. We have a nice time. All relationships fail until one doesn't, so I might as well make some friends along the way before I find the forever one."

"Ambrose and I won't fail. And I have enough friends."

Ted gave her a doubtful smile. Andromeda left it alone but wondered what part of that he doubted. He said, "Lucky to have made it in your circle before the cutoff, then. I think you just haven't needed your friends enough to know if you have the right number or not." He vanished their rubbish with a flick of his wand and slid his chair under the table, leaving Andromeda to her thoughts of yellow tulips.

..o0O0o..

Andromeda touched up her lipstick in the mirror as Gemma and Hester were washing their hands.

"He's incredibly polite, but he hasn't sent an owl after the last one thanking me for a wonderful evening. I think he's just forgetful and so busy with work. He never seems to ask anyone out more than once, though," Hester mused, her voice questioning.

That afternoon, Andromeda was presented with a stack of parchments requiring her signature and a fresh yellow tulip.

..o0O0o..

Ted slowed his jaunty clip down the street to take in the scene several feet away.

Andromeda and Ambrose were arguing, and though he couldn't hear the words, Ambrose's harsh tone cut through the fog. Andromeda was hugging herself, staring away from them both. He waited for Ambrose to disapparate in the alley before he approached Andromeda, who had lowered herself onto a concrete stoop. Her eyes were shining with unspilt tears. Ted dropped himself down and silently passed her a handkerchief. They sat for several moments.

"It's fine," she said, thickly.

"Okay."

"He's been under stress at his work."

"Evidently."

"Our wedding is in six weeks. There's so much to arrange."

Ted bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed his eyes closed. "Are you happy, Andromeda?" he asked, suddenly.

"What? Of...of course I am," she stammered, and then she breathed, "I have to marry a pureblood. It's what everyone expects. Ambrose and me."

He stared at her hard, and Andromeda blinked at the intensity of it. His voice was polite and icy in a way she'd never heard it before. "You don't have to. You are choosing to. For reasons that elude me. Keep the handkerchief. You'll need it."

That afternoon, a stale tulip dropped petals on her desk.

..o0O0o..

Andromeda and Ted examined a massive spreadsheet held down between them by a vase too large for the one lingering tulip. The banter had gone, and they only spoke of the diplomacy of countries, illustrated with data points. The sharpness of her quill on parchment was a counterpoint to the dullness of her heart, and it was with a recklessness fueled by neediness that she shifted the vase, drawing his eye to it.

"There's only one flower left, Ted."

He looked pointedly at the cloth bag hanging on her coat rack containing the bridal robes she'd picked up from the seamstress over lunch. He looked back down at their work and said carefully, "Perhaps you should tell Ambrose you like flowers, Andromeda."

Andromeda was mortified by the tears she furiously blinked back. She sat up and started shuffling papers into a stack - a task that suddenly grew impossible. "I think we've accomplished enough on this today, Ted." She stood and began gathering things haphazardly, her cheeks flaming.

Ted didn't rise but looked thoughtfully at the vase of flowers. He finally spoke, the warmth in his voice snuffed by regret. "You are engaged. To be married," he added, in case she'd forgotten what the appointment was for, "But I've wanted, since the first day I arrived, to ask you out. I've thought about it every day. I can't know your thoughts, Andromeda, but if you have given going out with me one moment of consideration, then you shouldn't ruin your life with this wedding. Or Ambrose's, for that matter. And then, maybe, you might be free to accept my invitation. For that date."

Andromeda stared at him. His jaw was set.

"Have a pleasant weekend, Ms. Black." Ted inclined his head in a nod and scooped his work from her desk on his way out the door.

..o0O0o..

On Monday, Ted nodded politely in a vague greeting to Andromeda as he passed her in the lobby. Her hair was pulled back in a plain knot, and he noticed she looked drawn, but she smiled softly as he passed.

When he reached his office, his eyes rested on the large vase of green gladioli on his desk. Under the vase was an engraved card.

 _Mr. Cygnus Black III and his wife Druella Rosier Black_

 _regret that the wedding of their daughter_

 _Andromeda Black_

 _to Mr. Ambrose Burke_

 _will not take place._

Ted stared at the card for several minutes. There was a knock on the doorjamb of his open door. He looked up to see Andromeda, her face pale, but her eyes looking at him with an intensity he hadn't steeled himself for. She didn't notice he'd stopped breathing.

"Mr. Tonks. I finished the remainder of our report, but it requires your eyes and your signature." He nodded, a careful look on his face. She continued, "Since we'll have that off our plates, perhaps we should celebrate?"

He exhaled the breath he'd held with a shuddery laugh. "Yes."

She rested her head on the doorjamb and looked at him shyly. "Thank you, Ted."

Ted smiled at her. "I think we can start negotiations over who should be thanking whom over dinner."

"Tomorrow?" Andromeda asked.

"For a _start,_ " Ted smiled, and Andromeda let the feeling of it wash over her, pinking her pale cheeks.

"For a start," she agreed.


End file.
